


Second Choice

by ElnaK



Series: Books of Sacrifices [13]
Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Abduction, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Deal With It, F/F, F/M, Gen, I'm a terrible person, Not Happy, joss carter lives, mentions of a crossover with Frequency, my headcanons are headcanons, somewhere in season 4, what
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-11
Updated: 2017-06-11
Packaged: 2018-11-12 19:40:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11168742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElnaK/pseuds/ElnaK
Summary: Lambert - Samaritan - got one of them. That's all they get to know, for now... They just have to figure out who, and, more importantly, if it's even the truth, and not just a mind game.





	Second Choice

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so...
> 
> I hate myself right now. But it had to be done ( said my brain ).
> 
> And, just to be clear, I like Carter, but I'm not part of the Carter Fanclub. Even if she always had her reasons, I found her a bit sanctimonious from time to time ( which, in itself, isn't so much of a problem, because nobody's perfect, but which also grates on my nerves each time someone says she was soooo perfect... ). Also, she's alive her, because reasons.

Jeremy Lambert wasn't a cruel man per se, but he wasn't reluctant either to do what was needed. If he had to play mental games to get what he wanted – or, in this case, what Greer and Samaritan wanted – then so be it. And, in the end, wasn't it all for the greater good? Samaritan wanted to help humanity, and if for that, some people had to be sacrificed... Well, Lambert'd rather not, but apparently it was for the better. Lambert wasn't sure he trusted Samaritan, but he did trust Greer, and Greer believed in Samaritan. That was good enough for him.

Which is why, when he looked at the figure the two assets had secured, and were now holding down, Lambert didn't feel particularly guilty of what he was going to do. He was doing his job, no more, no less. Some of Samaritan's assets, like Martine, were so much more insavory than he himself was, in his opinion; so certain of their good right, because they worked for the AI, that they didn't see an issue with automatically resorting to violence...

Lambert, as it was, wasn't afraid to use violence when needed, but Martine Rousseau had a tendency to immediately go there, that he couldn't help but disapprove. Which explained that the woman was Greer's second in command for everything that asked for some violent behavior, but he, Lambert, was the man Greer tasked with more... delicate... interventions.

The two assets pushed their prisoner onto a chair, and one of them started to zip-tie the person while the other kept them restrained. Then the assets sought Lambert's approval, who was content with their work. So he told them to leave, and that's just what they did.

Lambert didn't regret what he was going to do. After all, it could have been a lot less pleasant for the prisoner, had Martine been the one tasked with their handling. Much more blood, much more pain, much more torture in general. Just because she could.

Even when it was obvious that torture wasn't going to get anything out of the victim.

The point of this little experiment really wasn't there, anyway.

Lambert sat down too, and looked at the person currently ziptied in front of him.

“We're going to give a call to your friends, you and I. Or, you know, I'm going to talk, you're going to listen, and Samaritan will use this call to try and, without a doubt, succeed in taking over this interesting telephone network. And, just to keep them occupied, I'm going to tell them I've got their most important person with me right now.”

No answer, but a raised eyebrow. Perhaps a bit of a quiet, discreet sneer.

Lambert arched back an eyebrow at the person in response.

“Obviously you're not the most important one of them all, but it'll get them all running around for a while, trying to figure out who we got, and, more than that, if we got more than one person. Which, by the way, I'm not going to tell you, it would be too easy if I did. No, you'll have to wonder, and find out on your own just like your friends.”

Lambert reached for the cellphone they had found on the prisoner, and which was, to everyone's surprise, not on any known network. Samaritan wanted to know more about it. Maybe it'd manage to locate the Machine's assets using the cellphone, maybe not. Maybe the Machine itself would fight back, to keep its assets safe, and that would get Samaritan on its trail. Maybe not. But if nothing else they still had the wild goose chase they were going to start. The consequences of such an event for the rebels might be more than interesting, if Samaritan was right in its assessment of the Machine's assets. Perhaps they could even get something out of the prisoner – whereas Martine's torture would have gotten them nowhere, not with this person.

“I must admit, by doing that I'll be lying to them a bit, but well... It's not like they should expect any less from us, right?”

The prisoner didn't bother with an answer of any kind – not even fighting back.

Then again, the prisoner probably knew there wasn't really a point. Lambert shrugged at the lack of response; the prisoner would react soon enough. For now, it was time to get to work.

So he brought the cellphone to his hear, and waited for someone to pick up the call. Samaritan had made it so that no actual caller would appear on the receiver's screen – it would spoil the fun, surely, since the Machine's operatives would immediately know at least one person to be missing.

 

Root was getting herself ready at the Subway – today she was Madeline Hartaud, a shy librarian, it seemed – when her cellphone rang. Still adjusting her raven black wig, she went to answer, wondering who in the Team could possibly be calling at four twenty-seven in the morning – she had been having trouble sleeping, but shhh, don't tell the others.

Sameen had gone back to her appartment, and knowing her, the operative had probably fallen right away on her mastress, asleep already, after the thirty-eight hours she had spent awake. A single, quiet sound would obviously wake Sameen up even in this state, but Root had a hard time imagining the sexy sociopath – she was the only one allowed to call her that, by the way, even if Sameen didn't know that yet – waking up on her own for any other reason.

Harold had lessons to give in the upcoming day, and had left the Subway only one hour and a half ago, so it was unlikely he'd call, except if he had forgotten to do something before leaving... But even then, the older man was certainly sleeping by now.

Fusco and Carter had, unlike them all, an actual social life on top of their job. Besides, Root didn't see what they could be calling her for. They usually went to Harold or to John first.

John... Well, perhaps John. The operative was out stalking an irrelevant number, and while he shouldn't need her help, something might have come up. By the way, did the man ever sleep?

Root glanced at the screen, expecting the caller to appear...

But no. Nothing.

Only people with a cellphone on the mesh network could call directly on that phone, and unless someone in the Brotherhood had made a false number and somehow gotten hers...

Root caught her breath, not allowing herself to be too expectant. But, no identified caller...

Could it be the Machine?

Composed – wrong, she wasn't, it was all a façade – Root picked up the call.

“Hello?”

Her hope wasn't destroyed right away, though. The call connected, without a doubt, but fot a moment, nothing but static could be heard. It could still be the Machine, waiting for something, for the moment she could talk freely...

Root heard four clicks over the static, and for an instant after each sound, she almost managed to make out the ghost of a voice, words like her own, mostly, hidden... as if four other cellphones had connected onto the call too, but without being completely accessible to her.

She blinked. What was this? A conference call, or not? Had she... dreamed the clicks?

A voice spoke up. Root's blood froze.

“ _Ah, finally. You all answered the call, despite the hour. Good, good...”_

This was not the Machine disguising herself as a man, Root knew that for sure. This voice, she... She knew it. Had heard it already. Not Greer, but...

“ _Jeremy Lambert speaking. As you've probably understood by now, I've gotten my hands onto one of your special phones, and it's only a matter of time before Samaritan gets control over this clandestine network of yours, I assure you. Now, you might wonder how I got this cellphone, but really... The answer is obvious, isn't it?”_

Root's first thought was that Samaritan had acquired one of her friends – four clicks, four other calls, and not five, her mind whispered over Lambert's voice – but then she remembered the Brotherhood. They had access to the same network, as she had been reminding herself only a few seconds sooner. Perhaps one of them had been caught by the police with one of their cellphones, and it had somehow gotten Samaritan's attention.

Nothing proved that one of Root's friends had been taken, not even the clicks – she might have imagined them, after all. Or perhaps one of the others hadn't been woken up, not even by the call. It was the middle of the night... Perhaps Lambert didn't know how many people exactly had one of these cellphones, Brotherhood aside.

“ _But what matters isn't so much how we got into your private phone network. What matters, is that we got the most important person to one of you... Perhaps even more than just one, who knows? Anyway... We are going to find you, I promise, but in the meantime... Have fun figuring out who's missin...”_

The call was cut short.

Root slowly moved the phone off her ear, and before her eyes. She stared at the disconnected call – no signal, the cellphone said – for a dozen of seconds before really reacting.

 _Sameen!_ was her first thougth, and she tried to call the operative, but no matter what she tried, there wasn't any signal. At first it angered her... until she realized that the Machine had probably intervened. She must have brought down the mesh network, at least for a time, to cut Samaritan out. Not to let the other AI determine their positions...

But that also meant they couldn't check on each other.

Root almost bolted for the door, to go to Sameen's place and make sure the sexy sociopath was alright, but suddenly realized that the woman, if she wasn't in Lambert's hands, had probably done exactly the same... If she left now, there was a high chance they'd miss each other.

She forced herself to think and act accordingly, and not to react. For all she knew, Sameen was alright, already on her way to the subway station. It was the most logical place to assemble, with Harold's appartment being the second. The best Root could do, for now, was to stay here, and wait.

Sameen was on her way...

And if she wasn't... Well, Root should still wait for the others to get there. They'd be more efficient if they worked all together to get Sameen – or whoever else had been taken, if someone had indeed been taken – rather than if they scattered, searching for each other without actually thinking that the others were doing the exact same thing.

If Sameen had been taken, moreover, Root wouldn't even know where to start looking.

She went to sit on her bed, her phone still in her hand, staring intently as if it would get the network to be functional again... Root frowned.

The private network...

Of course. How could she be so stupid?! The mesh network, the Brotherhood's private, and subsequently theirs too, mean of communication was down, but normal cellphones should be alright. Madeline Hartaud could still call Sameen Grey, and Harold Whistler, and John Riley, if she couldn't contact Shaw, Finch and Reese... And, obviously, Fusco and Carter had regular cellphones too. As long as they were careful with their words... And it wasn't as if they needed much more than a confirmation that the others were alright, at least to begin with.

Root fumbled for her regular cellphone, put the battery back in – no need to give Samaritan additional ways to spy on them even inside the subway – walked out of their secret hideout – no standard reception down there, anyway – and waited impatiently for it to come back to life. It was unreasonably long, to wait for something as trivial when Sameen could be in danger.

“Come on!!!”

The phone, understandably, didn't go any faster just because she was anxious.

When it finally gave her satisfaction, Root was pleased to notice that, indeed, the normal network was totally functional. No missed call, but perhaps the others hadn't thought of it yet, or were calling the others first.

She was in her contacts list, finger hovering over Sameen's number, when suddenly the signal seemed to disappear on this network too. Her finger slammed on the screen, but it did no good. Scowling, Root took a few steps towards the exit.

Nothing changed.

She frowned, got out in the street, eyes still fixed on the reception – or continued lack thereof.

Root looked around her. At this hour, there weren't many people out in the street, but a man was walking towards her, deeply focused on the phone call he had been having... Until all the networks came down, a few seconds sooner. The man was still trying to talk to his wife, from what Root figured, having not yet realized that the call had been effectively cut. He took his cellphone away from his ear as he passed by her, and swore profusedly as he uderstood the situation.

Root squinted at the nearest surveillance camera, walked back inside, and threw her useless phone against a wall. This time, it wasn't the Machine, she was certain of it.

Samaritan was playing with them. The AI couldn't find them itself, so it was making their lives hell.

Just for that, she'd find it and dismantle it herself.

Root waited about half an hour – or twenty-seven minutes and forty-eight seconds to be exact – before someone arrived at the Subway. She almost jumped at the sound of footsteps – and, something else too, but... – hoping for Sameen, of course, but for anyone else too; whoever arrived was someone they didn't have to worry about.

The fact that she could hear footsteps in itself made it unlikely for them to be Sameen or John. Most of the time, the two sneaked up on about everyone in the Team except the other. Spy thing, surely.

Besides, Root recognized the pattern – a limp – just before Harold appeared, Bear in leash.

The dog was whining quietly, she noticed, but the man didn't look wounded. She figured the dog had picked up on the tension, and was worried too, even if he didn't know about what exactly.

Harold stopped for an instant, eyes wide, as he noticed her, but soon enough resumed walking – limping – to his computer. He looked terribly worried, and Root could guess she had probably the the exact same look on her face. The only ones who were certainly stone-faced right now were, again, the Team's two operatives.

“Harold, thank goodness! Any news from the others?”

The man didn't even bother to look at her, but did answer.

“Sorry, Ms Groves, but I'm afraid that none of us managed to make a call before Samaritan banned all telephonic conversations. That being said, I am relieved that you, at least, are safe. If they had gotten their hands on your cochlear implant...”

Root shuddered, knowing what Samaritan might have done to her to get the implant that had so often communicated with the Machine. But try as she might, right now, she was more relieved that Harold, if no one else, was here too. Lambert had implied there might have been more than one of them taken, and while she completely trusted Harold not to speak when faced with psychological warfare, she had some doubts the creator of the Machine would resist a more physical approach.

Sameen and John were trained against torture, and Root herself had known more situations of the kind than warranted, Fusco was tough and stubborn, and Carter wouldn't break for anyone with all her righteousness, she had proved it already, but Harold... Harold wasn't a field operative, and he lived in physical pain all the time.

Root followed the man to the computers. Maybe he had an idea she hadn't already tried while waiting – anxiety could make you unfocused like nothing else.

“What are you thinking, Harold?”

He looked at her with a wry smile.

“You tried the surveillance camera around our friends' place, I suppose?”

“Of course, but either they weren't there, or they are being cautious. Which, for Carter and Fusco, is a must, considering they aren't as hidden by the Machine as we are. I didn't catch anything on the cameras I could access. I... didn't try any hacking too... daring... for now, considering that Samaritan is probably expecting us to use everything we can to get to the others, but perhaps we should...”

Harold opened a camera feed, right across Grace Hendrick's place in Italy, and Root realized that Lambert hadn't explicitly said the one – ones? – who had been taken was – were? – a member of the Team. He had said “your most important person”, hadn't he?

They didn't have many people left, out of their little circle of broken people, but if Samaritan had identified them, found them, taken them...

“Not yet, Ms Groves, especially as the others are probably on their way here now... But is there anyone easier to find than our elusive friends you wish to check upon?”

Root smiled wrily at Harold, but he looked her seriously in the eyes. It got her thinking.

“You know I don't have any family left, and I didn't exactly make friends before the Machine got me back into a more humane state of mind...”

“What about the hackers you used prior Samaritan's coming online?”

Root hesitated, her eyes on the video feed from Florence, Italy. Grace Hendricks' window was lit, and she could guess the figure of a woman standing in the room.

But no. Daizo, Jason and Daniel were safe, with new, perfect identities. She'd endanger them more than anything else if she tried to check on them.

“Hardly my most important people, Harry... Anyone else Samaritan might know about?”

Harold looked thoughtful for a moment, but shook his head.

“We both have no family nor any friends left. Ms Shaw doesn't exactly bother with a social life, only her partner Cole might have done the trick, and he's dead. Her father died in a car accident when she was young, and her mother is protected by the ISA's work to anonymize their operatives. She doesn't have any other close family. As for John, the CIA did exactly the same thing, and even if Samaritan probably found enough from his activities as the Man in a Suit, thanks to Agent Donnelly, to tie him back to his previous life, he was already in WITSEC before that, and from what I know, he managed to have his paper file 'misplaced'. I am fairly certain his parents are dead, but I don't even know their real names.”

There wasn't anyone else to look after, it seemed.

The older hacker sighed, and Bear whined again at the man's feet. The dog was looking whistfully towards the Subway's entrance, ears down. Root reached down to pat him on the head a bit.

It didn't seem to even register.

“Then, Ms Groves, I believe we can only wait for the others to arrive.”

They both sat in silence for the next three minutes and twelve seconds – there was nothing they could think of to say, nothing that wouldn't get them more worried, more frustrated, more unwilling to wait, even if it was the most prudent course of action.

Then two people came down the stairs too. Harold and Root were immediately on their feet again.

Fusco looked like he might murder someone by shoving a donut down their throat, and Carter had that air of righteous fury about her – Root seriously hoped they wouldn't be the ones to suffer her anger; after all, she had been the one to insist to be in the know, and it wasn't as if she was the only one who was worried.

“What the hell is that about this time?!”

Harold gave the two detective a hard look for a moment before answering. The man could be short-tampered too, especially when he wasn't at fault and people still snapped at him. He particularly didn't like being blamed for things he had nothing to do with, because he already blamed himself for many, many things.

The hacker reflected that it was John's case too, except the operative had the bad habit of just accepting the blame instead of rejecting it, because he felt like he was absolutely – not responsible, no – worthless, all in all. The number of times John had just gone with everyone else's blame, never denying anything, never defending himself...

Harold could understand Carter's reaction, of course, and later on, he'd forgive any outburst, like she always forgot his, but he wasn't going to just accept it.

“You know as much as we do, Detective. So if you could please...”

“To hell with your politeness, Finch! Do you have any idea what it is to be woken up at four in the morning by an unknown caller and hear that kind of message? I immediately went to check upon Taylor, terrified that one of these Samaritan bastard had snuck in while I slept and taken my son!”

“I can assure you, Detective, that...”

“Now you are going to do whatever is needed to make sure there isn't any danger, or so help me, Finch, I'll...!”

“Enough!”

Harold was fuming, Root could tell, and perhaps the detective had picked it up too, because while Carter still looked like she was about to explode, she stopped talking for a moment.

If she wanted an answer, after all, it would be more efficient to let the man talk.

Bear whined, still looking at the entrance.

“Was your son harmed in any way?”

Carter had cooled down a bit as she responded.

“No... But he could have been.”

Fusco, who had been eyeing his partner warily all along, supplied helpfully:

“Mine neither, if anyone is interested...?”

Joss froze for a moment, and gave her partner a look. She hadn't even thought that Lionel had probably reacted exactly like she had...

Finch sighed, and turned back to look at his screens, scanning the nearby surveillance cameras, in case one of their two remaining friends arrived – or, worse, if Samaritan operatives somehow came.

“I cannot tell you how pleased I am that neither Lee nor Taylor have been taken, Detectives, but I must remind you you were fully aware of the risks when you decided to continue working with us, despite our reluctance to have you involved in anything else than the numbers. Ms Groves, Ms Shaw, Mr Reese and myself, it's different. We don't have anyone left, but you... We told you, Joss. And you insisted.”

The Detective sighed, and took a seat.

“I... I'm sorry, Finch. This phone call just messed with my head.”

The hacker gave her a smile – a bit tight, perhaps, but genuine nonetheless.

“I know, Detective. I don't resent you. But I don't take kindly to being verbally attacked when I am myself worried for our friends, I hope you understand that too.”

“Of course... So, who's lef...”

Before she could finish her sentence, a noise in the direction of the Subway's entrance caught their attention. Bear's ears went up for a moment. The dog sniffed the air, and hightailed to the stairs.

A moment later, Shaw was walking down the stairs while trying to pet the anxious dog.

“Calm down, Bear, calm! Yeah, you're a good boy, I know. You were worried about me?”

Root suddenly brightened, and followed Bear in hightailing to the new arrival.

“Sameen! You're alright!”

Shaw froze, and squinted at the tallish woman with a scowl.

“Of course I'm alright. Who do you think I am? I was more worried for you, you know. You might think you're all badass and everything, but without the Machine whispering in your ear, you're not that good. I mean, obviously you're a sure shot with a gun, or even two, and you can defend yourself alright in a fight, but you're still not at the level of a professional fighter. And Samaritan has a few, if you remember.”

Root stared at the persian woman in silence for a moment, and Shaw wondered if there was anything in that speech she'd regret later...

Before she could come to a conclusion, however, the perky psycho in front of her broke into a grin – yeah, there was definitely at least one thing she'd soon regret, Shaw could tell – and hugged her profusely. Shaw frowned in confusion, and Carter, Fusco and Finch shrugged in the background.

“Awww, Sameen, so you were worried about me?”

Crap.

Root ended the hug, and tried to pat Sameen on the cheek gently, but the other woman swept her hand away and went to rejoin the others with a scowl.

She could still hear Root fawning in the background, though.

“Does that mean I'm your most important person, Sameen? Sameen? Hello~? By the way, I'm happy to hear that you consider me a good shooter! Would you volunteer to help me become a better hand-to-hand fighter?”

Shaw ignored her – or tried, and turned to look at Finch.

“So. What do we have?”

“Not much, I'm afraid. For all we know, Samaritan was simply trying to lure us out, without actually having one of us. Or perhaps it's all a mind game, to get us on edge before a worse offensive. We're still waiting on John, as it is, and we've checked on our more... civilian, let's say, connections. Everyone seems alright.”

Shaw scowled – maybe she should just stay like thar; at least she wouldn't have to bother next time something angered her.

“So what? Lambert's trying to keep us from sleeping?”

Fusco sighed, and looked around the Subway station. Even now that Shaw had arrived, the dog seemed pitiful. After his happiness with the woman's arrival, he had gone to lie down just at the bottom of the stairs, his ears down too, and his muzzle on his paws.

Waiting for...

Lionel frowned. There was something they were missing. What had the guy on the phone said, already? … “The most important person to one of you”...

“Wait a minute. Wonderboy's still not there, is he?”

There was a moment of silence. The others looked at Lionel in confusion, obviously not seeing what it had to do with anything. The detective didn't particularly like the feeling it gave him.

Root arched an eyebrow at him.

“And so? He's going to get there soon, I suppose. It's not like even bodily harm, short of it being extreme, could keep him away from doing whatever he wants...”

As the hacker spoke, Lionel saw realization hit her right in the face.

“Exactly. Wonderboy would already be here if he could. And since he's not...”

Carter finished his thought for him.

“...then it means he's the one they got.”

They all turned to look at the stairs, almost hoping John Reese to arrive and prove them all wrong. But all they saw was Bear, whining unhappily at the entrance.

Finch turned frantically to his computer, scanning again all the surveillance cameras he could find around the Subway and John's appartment, but they all knew already that he wasn't going to find anything. Somehow, Lambert had gotten to John, and it was probably his phone that he had used to get into their private network.

And all this time, none of them had considered – or if they had it had been no more than a fleeting thought – that John might have been the one taken. They hadn't forgotten about him, of course, they had even worried a bit, they had waited for him to arrive, to be there to help...

...But none of them had seriously considered him a potential victim.

Joss let out a strangled laugh.

“I... Our most important person. I immediately thought of Taylor. Lionel checked on Lee. Logical, they are our children. You two, you worried about each other, and I guess Harold was making sure Grace was alright in Italy. But we didn't even think it could be John, did we? Because that guy said 'the most important person', and John isn't...”

She couldn't even finish that thought out loud.

Joss, Lionel, Shaw, Root, Harold, none of them were ashamed of having thought about someone else first, and they shouldn't be. But realizing that, not only they had relied on Lambert's word, but also not even one of them had even thought about John that way... It hurt.

For them, because they should have known, and they shouldn't have dismissed his absence so easily.

But more than that, it made them all painfully aware that John wasn't anyone's most important person. That there would always be someone who'd be considered before him, no matter the situation, no matter the person he'd talk to.

That John himself probably knew it, and thought it normal.

And they wondered why the man was always so self-sacrificial...

“The dog's the only who noticed, isn't he?”

 

The sound cut, and Lambert raised a disappointed eyebrow. They had managed to secure the calls, even if they hadn't been able to track back the sources, though the Machine had somehow tampered with the sounds so that no name was audible, but apparently that had been shut down too.

Oh well. They had what they wanted. Getting to the others would only be a matter of time, now.

Lambert looked back at John Reese, ziptied to his chair, and having completely listened to his friends' efforts to find each other. But never him.

Reese gave him a defiant, hardened glare.

“Interesting how you aren't any of their first choices, isn't it?”

The tied-up operative looked him in the eyes, and Lambert searched for the smallest indication of hurt, of disappointment, perhaps. Of betrayal. Except all he found was sarcasm.

Reese licked his lips slowly, rehydrating them before speaking, and his mouth broke into a sneer.

“And so? What else is new?”

Lambert stood up brutally, and kicked Reese's chair, making him fall to the ground.

The man knew... he had known all along! And he didn't freaking care!!! How?!?

They wouldn't get anything out of him.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea how Samaritan and the Machine managed to do what they did with the cellphones in this OS, but I needed John to hear it all, and the others to be safe, so... Please excuse the blatant plot device.
> 
> Now, onto a more personal matter:
> 
> And this, is the reason I hate it when fanfiction authors just give Bear to Shaw and Root, and let John in the corner, all alone. The guy already has no one just for himself, he even shares his dog with everyone, and now that? Sure, I agree that Shaw was the one who should get Bear in canon, but that's because John is dead.
> 
> In fact, I often find it sad that John gets forgotten so often in fanfics, except if its Rinch ( which I don't really read ). He's a great character, and thank you, but he's just as capable as Shaw. I think they're equal as fighters, she's a medic on top, and he's good at undercover work ( unlike Shaw, who can do passable if needed, but isn't that great at "human interractions" ), and well, I don't like it when people just dismiss him...
> 
> Which is totally why I wrote that. I know.


End file.
